Love Is Just a FourLetter Word
by whitewistaria
Summary: casefic. A navy Lt has been murdered and the team must discover the truth. In the meantime, they also get to know Mr Miami and how he and Ziva met. Sequel to "Of soul-mates, Pah and better-halves".
1. Chapter 1

**This is the sequel to "Of soul-mates, Pah and better-halves". I think there'll be some references to that one, it'd be better to read that first, but it's not necessary.**

**Disclaimer: sadly, my new year's wish didn't work. I still don't own it. Maybe I'll get lucky for my birthday. I don't own "Love is just a four-letter word" by Bob Dylan, either. But I own a CD with it sung by Joan Baez. **

Kimberley O'Connell was quite pissed. Her class-mates had invited her to go out with them for the first time; she wasn't exactly the most popular girl in the school. Not that she was ugly, she was quite a pretty girl to tell the truth, but she was shy and had a funny Irish accent, thanks to her parents' heritage. While she was proud of her origins- her grandparents still lived in Eire and she loved them and the country- that accent and her shyness were enough to be bullied. And now that she could finally make some friends, her parents had denied her their permission just because she had to take the metro alone and they couldn't escort her. She wasn't five, she was damn_ fifteen! _She could manage to go alone without bodyguards, couldn't she?

She decided she'd go anyway: her parents were at work, she'd go and come back before 6.30 pm and they'd never know. Making friends was worth a little lye, right?

Even fifteen years later Kimberley couldn't explain how it'd happened: she was walking in the metro station, thinking if her clothes were cool enough or something equally sill, when someone grabbed her and pushed her in a corner.

She tried to scream, to kick the man and run away. But she barely weighted 110 pounds and her assailer was at least 176 pounds. She went still when a punch to her temple blacked her out.

She woke up with a big head-ache, not recognizing the place.

And suddenly she remembered everything. She didn't know how she got home.

Once at home, she locked the door and collapsed on the floor. She desperately cried, ashamed of what had happened, of something she only knew through boring lessons at school. She always thought of it as an abstract concept. And it had happened to her.

RAPED.

She couldn't believe it. It seemed a nightmare. And yet, the ripped panties and the missing button of her jeans were there to testify the truth.

Looking at herself I the mirror, she also saw the bruises on her thighs and sides and the swelling on her temple. Yeah the nightmare was more than real.

She went to shower, tossing the clothes on the floor. She tried to scrub the bruises away. Maybe if they disappeared, everything would be back to normal. No such luck. She washed like she never had done, but the disgust remained.

After forty minutes, she rationally knew she was more than clean. So why did she feel dirty?

After the shower Kimberley looked at her reflection in the mirror. She had aged, she was sure. Her eyes were almost as old as those of her Grandma.

She suddenly felt oddly rational. She had to figure out what to do next. No time to panic.

She couldn't talk to her parents. She had disobeyed them, and they simply didn't talk about sex, or condoms, pills and subjects like those. She didn't even have to ask the notorious question _Mom, how do you make children?_ One day little Kimberley came home from school and there was and a science book open on the right page on her desk. And so she knew.

No, she could tell almost everything to her parents, but sex wasn't a subject for conversation. And they were good people, who'd have done everything for her. They 'd be heartbroken knowing what had happened to their precious princess, just because she had disobeyed ONCE. No, she couldn't do that to them.

That her parents would probably prefer to know didn't even cross her mind.

She couldn't be positive but was quite sure _he _had used a condom, at least she didn't have to worry about pregnancies, AIDS, infections and so on. _He probably has done it more than once and doesn't want to get caught._ Kimberley suddenly felt sick at the thought and emptied her stomach. She had to struggle some minutes to regain control.

The bruises were covered by clothes and for the swelling…_if I put my hair like this it's invisible. And I can always say I hit my head somewhere. The door of my cupboard will work._

She only had to throw away her clothes, put her best it's-been-a-boring-afternoon face on and hope it'd fool her parents.

Two weeks passed since _THAT_ afternoon and she was fine. Unbelievably fine. She almost thought IT wasn't the big deal teachers wanted them to believe. If she had looked for some psychological help, she'd have known it was just a denying phase that wouldn't have lasted ayway. But she didn't know.

Until the guy she had wanted to go out with for the last six months cornered her after school and put a hand on her side, actually asking her out. She freaked out and ran.

Looking at herself in the mirror she examined her beautiful red curly hair, her generous cleavage, every curve in the right place. _If I didn't look like this, nothing would've happened to me._ She was disgusted with herself, with her body. _It's MY FAULT._

And the real nightmare began.

She couldn't stop to eat, her mother would've noticed. But she could empty her stomach AFTER eating. Two fingers and it was done.

After two month she was no more a pretty girl. She was the shadow of who she was. Her bright hair had become stringy, her fingernails broke for nothing, she could feel her teeth moving, she no more had her cycle. And obviously she was way too thin with big circles under her eyes due to the nightmares. Everybody was concerned about her, but she didn't listen to anyone claiming she was just a little tired and stressed because of the school, but except for that, everything was fine.

One afternoon she was at home alone when she suddenly felt weaker than usual and began to see black spots. She was trying to reach the couch when she passed out.

When she woke up still on the floor with an aching back, Kimberley decided that she couldn't bear it no more. She examined herself in the mirror and didn't recognize the stranger who was looking back at her. _THAT_ wasn't her.

And she finally admitted she needed some help.

Kimberley knew she still had the AD that some volunteers of a rape crisis center had given them after a lesson about THE subject. She quickly read it and thought she could give it a try.

The following afternoon she sheepishly went to 760 Parkside Avenue in Brooklyn , wanting to run away. Instead she found her saviors.

They didn't ask her if she had gone to the police, or her name to call her parents, or where she lived. Only her age. They offered her free psychological help and free test for HIV (negative, thanks to God) and she slowly began to heal.

Ten years later, she was Lt Kimberley O'Connell, she lived in DC and worked there for the Navy in the Public Affairs Office. She also volunteered in the DC Rape Crisis Center .

That night, like every other night since her personal stake-out had began months before, she came home quite late. She thought she had everything figured out, sitting at her kitchen table she was comparing some pictures of an anonymous warehouse, the dates she had taken them and a calendar. If she were right, the following day she'd have the proofs she needed and could finally alert the authorities.

She checked once again she had the binocular, the camera and everything she needed for the following afternoon, then she went to bed.

She didn't wake up when someone picked her lock. She didn't wake up when that someone crept in her home. She did wake up when that someone opened her door. She didn't even have the time to react when three rounds entered her heart. Then that someone grabbed her camera, her pc , her cell-phone and the pictures. And walked out.

At 10.15 in the morning a woman knocked on the door, "Kim? Are you ok? I know I'm late, but Ricky-" she leaned on the door and it opened "Kim?". She entered the apartment "Hey! KIM?"

"AAAAH! Oh my-"

**Some notes: this was quite difficult. I really hope I've done a good work. You're more than welcome to let me know what you think about it. 760 Parkside Avenue, Brooklyn is the real address of the" HEAT at SUNY Downstate Medical Center", I hope they work like I described and I sincerely apologize if I made any error.**


	2. Chapter 2

**One thing: ages. I've read in the "NCIS Guidebook"(you should check it, it's really helpful- thank you jelenamichel!) that Tony should be born in 1971 or 1972 and Ziva in 1982. In this story, and in the previous one, Tony's 40 and Ziva 29 (I know it's quite difficult to believe, but I like the idea of Tony having some age-related issues because Ziva is so much younger.). I don't know how old Abby and McGee are. I'd say McGee 33 and Abby 30 (And it's not really important, right?). Gibbs is somewhere between 55 and 60, but I'm sure years aren't enough stupid to bother Gibbs!**

Everything at the bullpen was normal. Normal greetings, normal banter, normal paperwork. There was only that last comment, that was really driving Special Agent DiNozzo nuts. _I can be fixed. She was implying she can't, that much is obvious. But why? She seems fine. She talks, laughs and jokes like always. What's wrong? Focus, DiNozzo. She's been your partner for five freakin' years. You should known her like nobody else. And it's your job to know people, to figure them out immediately. So what's your excuse, Mr. Cop?_

_Okay Dick Tracy, let's replay the scene: she was about to leave, I asked her if she wanted a family, she turned around and her eyes were infinitely sad. Family. That's a start. Can she have family issues?_

Suddenly, the image of a Gibbs' slap filled his head. He could almost physically feel it. _Don't ask stupid questions, DiNozzo! A Jew father has a child with a Muslim doctor, then he leaves her and marries another woman with whom he has two daughters. Then the wife leaves him and a daughter dyes. His son, who is a doctor, is also a Al-Quaeda secret agent and an even more secret Mossad officer. But he betrays Mossad, so another Mossad officer, who happens to be is half-sister, is sent to find him. Oh yes, by the way you've to add that the father is the Director of Mossad . _

_I bet that the Israeli version of "The Bold and The Beautiful" is about them. Not that I've ever seen it. Well, maybe once or twice. But just to see what it was about. Anyway, back to business. Family issues. If Ziva doesn't have them, nobody does. And it took you two days to figure this out? Maybe you should retire._

Tony's thoughts were interrupted by Gibbs, "Dead marine, grab your gear" he said, tossing the car's keys to Ziva. "Gas the truck, you're with Tony. McGee, with me. This is the address, see you there."

Tony groaned "Boss, if you don't see me there, it was a pleasure knowing you." Gibbs smirked.

"Tony, my driving is not that bad!"

"Oh sorry, my apologies. It's worse than bad".

"Hey!"

Yes, everything was normal. Well, almost normal. He could talk to Ziva when the case'd be over. Oh sure, like that was possible, he could almost hear her "I am fine Tony. There is nothing to talk about". Maybe it was better to think about it later, now he should focus on remaining alive. Ziva had just missed a car by less than two inches.

…

Their victim lived in Arligton, in a two bedroom apartment quite close to the Marines' Headquarters. They found her still in her bedroom, slightly turned towards her bedside table, where a gun was, her glassy eyes on the door.

"She woke up a moment too late." Ziva said taking a picture.

"She didn't have anything feminine. Look here" Tony was looking in the cupboard "Jeans, pants, t-shirts which are at least one size bigger than she needed, only one skirt. And it still has the price on."

"Maybe she wanted to be comfortable."

"Sociologically speaking, Ziva, clothes are a convention that can explain quite a lot of the person who's wearing them. Or what said person wants the others to believe, of course. Who we have here?" Ducky had entered the room and begun to look at her.

"Lt Kimberley O'Connell, Ducky." Ziva answered, looking at the driver license she had found in the victim's purse.

Ah Irish, aren't we? You know, I had an Irish friend once-"

"This friend can tell us who the killer is, Duck?"

"Oh Jethro! Well, last time I saw him, Jack was so drunk he wanted to kill some goats claiming they were enemies invading Ireland. Strangely similar to Don Quijote, if you-"

"Time of death, Duck?"

"Seven, maybe six hours ago. No more. And I'd say the cause of death is quite clear, but I'll have to do the autopsy to know more. Mr. Palmer the gurney, please."

"Yes Doctor. It's a shame a pretty girl like her has been killed."

Ducky and Gibbs stared at him.

"N-not that it isn't a shame when ugly people are killed. I meant…I'll go take the gurney."

…

"We go out every Saturday morning for breakfast. Well, we went out, I guess." A woman said to McGee, sniffing a little.

"Do you want a moment-" McGee said with his usual kindness.

"No it's fine. It's just…I come here every Saturday at ten, and Kim is always waiting for me outside. This morning I was late, my son is only three and you know how it is" He didn't know, but didn't say anything.

"And she wasn't there. It's never happened once, so I thought I'd come in and see if she was ok, and-and I saw her."

"Any idea about who could have something against her?"

"No. Kim didn't talk a lot about herself. I know she's a navy Lt and works at the Public Affairs Office, and that she volunteers at the Rape Crisis Center. Oh, and her parents were Irish, but she was born here. Nothing more."

"Nothing about her private life? I don't want to seem nosy, but it could be important."

"Nothing. But I doubt she had a social life. She worked every day and volunteered almost every evening. I always did all the talk."

"Ok, thank you. I'll call if we need something else. This is my number, if you remember something, call me please". McGee Said, giving her his phone-number.

"McGee, something?" Gibbs said coming from the house.

"Nothing interesting, Boss. She worked at the Public Affairs and volunteered at the Rape Crisis Center. I'd say the friend who found her didn't know our Lt too well. She probably was even more private than Ziva." He said grinning.

Gibbs seriously looked at him.

"I'll…go see if they need any help."

"Hey guys, found something?" McGee said entering the living-room.

"It's more what we didn't found McSherlock. Look around: no pc, no cell-phone, there're a pencil and a calendar on the table but nothing else. Our victim knew something."

"Maybe she just wanted write down an appointment or a birthday."

"Oh no McGoo, it's something dangerous. I can smell it."

"DiNozzo, the hunting dog. Not bad."

"Shut up McLamejoke. I'm right, she was killed because she was on something big, I know it." Tony answered going out.

McGee looked around and murmured "Yeah you're right." before going out too.

…

"You know, my dear, Most Gaelic surnames have been translated in English when colonists emanated the Penal Laws…"

"This is gonna help me, Duck?"

"Oh no Jethro. I have some answers, although it's just what I suspected. I can confirm the gunshots are the cause of death. As you see, they entered the heart with an absolute precision, two in the ventricles and one just above the aorta." Ducky responded, lifting the heart up. "I sent the bullets to Abigail."

Gibbs was already leaving when Ducky continued raising his voice "And Jethro, I'd say the shooter has been trained. And not by just anyone. Not many people could shoot like that considering that our poor girl was slightly turned to the left. I'm quite sure only you and Ziva in the entire building could do the same."

…

"What've ya got, Abs?" Gibbs said entering the lab.

"Abs!" He shouted.

"Oh, hey Gibbs!" Abby answered turning the music down, "Caf-Pow? Oh right, results first. So, the gun is a Makarov 9x18mm, non-registered. It's a Russian pistol, used as standard military side-arm in the Soviet Union. So, I'd say the shooter comes from east Europe or the Ex-Sovietic countries, but it's a wild guess Gibbs. It's quite popular in the US too. However, if you find it I can prove it is the one that shot. The murderer used a silencer, I found consistent residuals on the clothes. And the fingerprints are all of our victim, except for some on the front-door that belong to the friend who found her. And, before you ask, I checked: she's a teacher, I mean a teacher-teacher, not a spy who pretends to be a teacher to- why a spy would act as a teacher anyway? It doesn't make sense! I'll have to ask Ziva…but, being a teacher, she couldn't do it, Gibbs! Gibbs!"

Gibbs was already gone, leaving a Caf-Pow on the table.

…

Gibbs walked into the bullpen and stopped in front of the screen. Everybody quickly followed him.

"Nothing apparently wrong Gibbs" Ziva answered at the non-spoken question, putting the picture of their Lt on.

"Lt Kimberley O'Connell, 26, born in Boston from Irish parents. They moved to New York when she was 8."

"She graduated in English and enlisted when she was 23. Good records, by the way" Tony continued "I spoke to the neighbors, they said she was a quiet girl, always polite and she paid her rent without delays. Your perfect tenant.

"And Boss- McGee continued- nothing wrong in her bank-account, too. Everything looks okay."

"McGee, we're going to her Office. We need to speak with the coworkers."Gibbs said.

"Ziva, you-"

"I call my friend and tell him our holiday plans are over." Gibbs stared at her. "AND Tony and I are going to the Rape Crisis Center" She quickly added.


	3. Chapter 3

**Big correction about the age issue: thanks to Alidiabin I now know that Abby should be 37, McGee is 33 (so Abby is 4 years older than Tim, that's shocking) and Gibbs is 52 (this can't be possible!). Oh, and there's nothing to be sorry about, I LOVE a long and well-done review! To answer your question (sorry, I'd have liked to send you a private response, but for some unknown reasons it doesn't work), yes I'd say she doesn't want to attract sexual attention to herself. Did I give the impression she wanted it? **

"So your Miami knight will have to wait." Tony said while they were riding towards the RCC.

"He perfectly understands what duty means Tony."

"Ah, you don't deny he's your boyfriend."

"He's not my boyfriend, he's just my FRIEND."

"You don't go skiing alone with any friend, Zeevah ."

"He is a good friend."

"You were with him in Miami for what? Two days? And you've not seen him since then. How can you say he's a good friend?"

"How can you say I have not seen him?"

"Have you?" Tony was skeptical and a bit annoyed too.

"It is nothing of your concern, however if you must know, yes I have." She had said _concern_ on purpose trying to drop the subject but he didn't buy it.

"When?"

"Almost a month ago."

"You could introduce your boyfriend to us." His tone was bitter now.

"What part of _just a friend_ do you not get?" she was becoming angry.

"Oh sure. _Just_ a friend who _just _came to visit you and _just_ stayed at your home for the night. I'm not stupid Ziva!"

They were quiet for a moment. Ziva knew she had a choice to make: she could drop the subject and her Miami friend would add to the pile of things left unsaid that sooner o later would…what was the saying? Bite them in the ass, yes. Just like Jeanne and Michael. Or she could show her weaknesses, or at least some of them and let him understand. She didn't really like the thought. But that was Tony, who had gone to Somalia, got himself caught with the precise awareness he could have been dead in few seconds, because Gibbs, his only back-up, was miles away. The same guy who had bare his soul to her two days before. She decided she at least owned him some answers.

Taking a deep breath she said "My friend-Patrick is…he is helping me healing."

He looked at her at this, moving his eyes away from the road "I thought you were okay."

"I am most of the time. Immediately after…I had flashbacks every moment, anything could- Abby's Caf Pow for example. I smelled it and my mind was suddenly miles away. Now I AM fine, I can block them, it's just when I am asleep and my defenses are down that-"

"But we all thought-"

"Yes." She bitterly chuckled "I would like to think it is because I am that good hiding my emotions, but the truth is that it is what you all want to believe." She wasn't so sure about Gibbs, she had sometimes caught him staring at her with a strange look, but he didn't ever say anything.

"We-" he sounded offended by that.

She cut him off, letting another deep breath out. It was time to bare her soul on another matter, too.

"When you were undercover, I was dead worried about you. You always went to the hospital saying you had to do some exams, I thought you had a complication from the plague, or something. Until Gibbs told me you could have other reasons to disappear so often. Then I realized I was acting like that because I did not want to think you had a girlfriend." She thought about what she had said. "It is not that I wanted you sick. It is that you-you meant to me more than I myself wanted to admit after that summer and-"

He got what she meant now "And we don't want to think you're not well, so we've ignored when you came to work so pale with shadows under your eyes so dark you could easily be Edward Scissorhands' sister."

He was quiet for a long moment. "God, I'm sorry Ziva."

"Stop the car. We are here."

He blinked hard. How had he got them there?

Ziva was about to exit the car when Tony grabbed her forearm. "Ziva, we're not done yet. Please." He wanted to ask so many things to her; what this Patrick did have to immediately know she wasn't okay. How he could gain her trust in a few days. How he could get her to talk. _Why can't you be fixed?_

"We have work to do now."

"Tonight?"

"If you are up to it." She answered with a smirk, letting her eyes wander on his body.

He smiled "Oh I'll be there David." He knew that the small door she had opened on her soul was firmly close now, and that they were back to their normal banter. But it was okay, for the moment. He truly hoped she was willing to reopen it later.

…

"So she was here almost every evening?" Ziva asked to a volunteer who had known their Lt.

"Yes, we often do lectures to awaken people to rape subject. Most do know it sadly happens more often than they like to think, but they choose to ignore the problem. And we have classes here, we help rape survivors to accept and overcome what happened. Shared experiences from other victims are really useful."

"So Lt O'Connell was a rape victim?" Tony asked.

"Yes, I believe it happened when she was just a teenager, but I don't know when exactly or where, she never shared the details and they aren't important, after all."

"Did you notice any change in her behavior lately?" Ziva said.

"Well, she was a really private person, so it's difficult to tell, but she seemed almost excited the last time I saw her."

"And that was?"

"Two days ago. She said something like _having finally figured it out_, but I don't know what _it_ is ."

"Just one more thing, I see you have computers here, did Lt O'Connell work on one in particular?"

"Yes, she always used that one in the corner." The woman said, pointing to a computer.

"We'll need it."

"Of course."

"Okay, thank you for your help Ma'am" Tony said.

In the car Tony almost wanted to continue their talk, but he was too focused on what Ziva had said about their summer. Yes he liked her. He'd always liked her. On a sexual, physical level _and_ on an intellectual one. But that summer…Gibbs suddenly had gone to Mexico and in five minutes Tony was left with a case to solve, a team-leader role to play and two women who wouldn't talk to each other.

He needed reassurance, and it needed it badly. He couldn't go to Abby. She wanted Gibbs back and, without meaning it, she'd have made him feel only a substitute. Ducky…Ducky was too kind to shake his uncertainties away. Tim was not an option, he had his own uncertainties to fight.

He could go to Ziva. And he did. Often. And before he could think of the wisdom of what they were doing, he was in her bed.

Then the whole Iranian thing drove them apart. And after that, Jeanne.

Truthfully, sometimes he had missed Ziva. But he never thought she'd hurt because they broke apart.

And now…now what did he feel for her? _Couldn't live without you, I guess._

Yeah, stupid question.

**I'm assuming they didn't do only piano lessons. It's not really believable, like when you say "Mom, I'm going to study with a friend. He's helping me with math."I never thought my mom was so naïve to believe it. Did you? **


	4. Chapter 4

"Sir, I'm the chief of this Office, CDR Linson. How can I help-"

"Special Agents Gibbs and McGee, NCIS." Gibbs cut him off, not wasting time.

"Ah yes, you're here for Lt O'Connell, I assume." Gibbs nodded.

"Well, she was a good officer, arrived early, went home late. Got along with everyone. No complaints, good records."

"Anyone closer to her?"

"No sir. She was friendly with everyone, but I'd say she didn't have friends here."

"Any reason to kill her?"

"Not that I can think of. Not here anyway."

"Her work?"

"We are organizing a conference with the medias about the situation in Iraq. Nothing life-threatening, I'd say."

"Anything about her private life?"

"Nothing. She always came here and went home alone. I've never seen anyone with her."

"We need to look at her desk."

"And we need her computer." McGee added.

Lt O'Connell's desk was tidy: the computer, a pencil holder with some pens in and a folder with her name on.

Gibbs grabbed it and looked at the files in. Nothing interesting. While McGee was working on the computer detaching the wires , Gibbs opened the drawers "McGee, what's this?"

McGee looked up "It's a USB flash drive Boss. It's a flash memory data storage device integrated with a USB interface. USB stands for Universal Serial Bus, it means-" Gibbs glared at him.

"It means that is a thing you can put your files on."

"Take this BUS and the computer to Abby. Look if there's anything useful in there."

"Yes Boss." He didn't correct Gibbs.

…

"Hey Abby."

"Tim! What've ya got for me?"

"A computer and a USB drive."

"Today must be computers' day! Tony and Ziva brought me another one."

"Anything in there?"

"Nothing. Lessons' subjects, reports and lectures speeches mostly. But that wasn't her computer. I mean, it was her while she was using it, but other people worked on it. So-"

"There isn't anything personal."

"Yeah. Let's start with this baby, Timmy."

McGee gave her an affectionate smile "Let's."

…

"What've ya found?" Gibbs said entering the bullpen. DiNozzo quickly stood up, while Ziva was still on the phone.

"We spoke to another volunteer, she said our Lt was excited about something the day before she died. But she doesn't know what it is."

Gibbs glared at him "So you didn't found anything."

Tony seemed to be about to deny, then he sighed "Yeah. Nothing boss. "

"Actually we may have something." Ziva said, putting down the phone "That was Abby, she wants us in her lab."

…

"Ehi guys!"

"Whadda ya got Abs?"

"Ok Gibbs, the computers you have brought me? They are totally useless, but the USB driver is hinky." She put some pictures on the screen.

"Well Abs?" Gibbs said looking at several pictures, each showing an anonymous warehouse and three different trucks, two black and one gray, entering in it.

"That's all Gibbs."

"She took pictures of a warehouse?" Tony added.

"No." Ziva said "She took pictures of a regular delivery. Look at the dates."

"Once a month."

"McGee, find where this warehouse is." Gibbs said.

"Well boss, I can read the acronym CRB on it, I know that it must be in an industrial area of DC and-

"Judging from the picture the street is quite small, so we could triangulate them and use a logarithm…"

Gibbs, Ziva and Tony had quickly gone upstairs.

Tony and Ziva were trying to work on the trucks' plates, but they didn't have the complete sequences. They were both becoming quite discouraged.

"That's it. Campfire!"

Ziva looked at him with a mixture of exasperation and amusement "Tony, you are not team leader AND there are only two of us"

Tony seemed a little taken aback, but recovered quickly "DiNozzo rule no.6 Zeevah: always do campfire. Even if you are only two."

She snorted "That is ridiculous! You made it up."

"Don't make me head-slap you, David."

"I would really like seeing you try!"

They both moved their chairs to the centre of the bullpen.

"What do we have?"

"A warehouse where someone is delivering something illegal."

"These are only theories."

"Yes" Ziva agreed "But it is our best shot."

"Agreed. So, our Lt was killed because she had discovered that something."

"Why didn't she go to the Police?"

"Maybe she wasn't completely sure. She was waiting for a last proof."

"And they killed her before she could have it."

"Or before she could call the cops. Either way."

"Okay. Other question: how did she run into these deliveries?"

"Yeah. We're talking about an industrial area. You don't go there unless you work there. "

"So someone must have told her."

"Someone who was probably too scared to go to the Police."

"We should return to the RCC and see if someone knows something more."

"Okay David. End of the campfire. I call Gibbs and we can go."

The driving was silent, until Tony asked in the most neutral tone he could manage "Have you told your Peter you can't meet him in Megève and be his Regina?"

Ziva stared at him blankly "His name is Patrick, I was not going out of the US and I'm not a queen."

"Why would you be a queen?"

"You called me Regina."

"So?"

"It is the Italian word for queen."

"I was talking about Audrey Hepburn."

"She was an actress, not a queen." Ziva pointed with a _duh_ tone.

"I know who she was! But-forget it. Have you called _Patrick_?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"And it is nothing of your business. Why are you so interested in it anyway?"

"I told you. I'm just concerned for our National Security."

"And I told YOU. He has got a very impressive clearance."

"You know, I would really appreciated if you trusted me." She added annoyed.

"What does that mean?"

"You obviously don't trust me."

"What?"

"You heard me. And just so you know, I have never, ever betrayed my country. Israel or US."

"I was not-"

"Not implying that? Yes you were."

"No. I know you're not a traitor, Ziva. And I never doubted that. I-"

"Oh, you only doubt my choice in men. Thank you, I feel a lot better now!" She cut him off, angry and sarcastic.

"You've given me pretty good reasons, Ziva!"Now he was angry too.

Ziva just glared at him and exited the car. He had driven them there and parked the car without noticing twice that day. Tony tiredly rubbed his eyes. Why did anything have to be so difficult with her? Okay, it probably wasn't the kindest thing to say. But honestly, her record-track in men sucked. _Because YOUR track is that better, yes?_ _Rivkin vs Jeanne. It'd be a great match._ Yeah, they were both messed up, no point in denying that. He was just concerned for her. He only wanted the best for her. He wanted her to be his, as much as Ziva could ever be of someone. _And you'd be the best? _No he wasn't the best. He was a juvenile, obnoxious jerk. But he'd never hurt her.

He sighed, those thoughts had to wait.

…

"Hello again. What can I do for you now?" the same volunteer they talked in the morning asked.

"We want to know more about what you do exactly."

"Well, I told you. We do lectures and lessons and-"

"Yes we know. But you do more, let's say on the field, don't you?" Ziva said with her usual too direct way.

"What my colleague is _politely _asking is if you could enlighten us on how you actually help victims. Not only in a psychological way, but also in a practical one." Tony added with his best smile.

Ziva glared at him. "It's what I said" she muttered.

"Oh well, we of course offer medical help. But yes, we sometimes speak to victims of abuse and we try to help them, offering a place in a safe house and a new life." She answered, smiling at Tony. He smirked, as always his win-them-all grin did work. Ziva only rolled her eyes.

"Okay, that's what we need. Have you done anything like that in the last two months?"

"Let me think…yes there was something, I think six months ago." She sighed than explained "We run into prostitutes. You know it's sadly nothing new. There were five of them and they couldn't be more than fifteen. They seemed from the East-Europe, I think. Not American, anyway. We met them twice. The first time we just introduced us, letting them know we were friends and trust-worth. The second time we managed to talk a little more. We went back a third time, but they were gone. All we knew was that they stayed in a warehouse somewhere. One with a old red three-letter word sign on the top."

"And you didn't look for them?" Ziva asked with a pained expression.

"We tried."

"Okay. Thank you again."

**Did you recognize the movie Tony was referring to?**

**I would really like if you let me know what you think of this. Because in my mind it all sounds great, but maybe I made some more-than-huge errors. Thank you all for your reviews, subscribing and preferring! Oh and I found Tony's "I'm just concerned for National security" in 8X04 a pretty hard comment. I was surprised Ziva didn't react.**


	5. Chapter 5

**I don't know how many industrial areas are in DC, Maryland or Virginia. I tried to look for information, but I couldn't find anything useful anywhere, sorry. This is why I'm gonna pretend there are only three areas Kimberley O'Connell could search for the warehouse. **

"How did she find the right warehouse? There are thousands of them in DC." Ziva asked once they were all in Abby's lab.

"She did the simplest and smartest thing I can think about, except finally making Caf Pow myself: Google Earth."

Three blank looks.

"Okay, it's a program that maps the Earth by the superimposition of images obtained from satellite imagery, aerial photography and GIS 3D globe." McGee tried to explain.

"So, translating in English McNasa, you can watch the world from above with a good resolution?"

"Exactly. And you can find a warehouse with a big red sign on the top."

"It cannot be this simple. We are talking about DC, Maryland and Virginia, at least."

"Yes Ziva, but our warehouse can't be in suburban or residential areas. We are looking for industrial areas and they must be quite near to the street where they found the girl. So we have just three winner areas." Abby answered, showing the three areas on the screen.

"It could not be simple anyway."

"No, but she searched for a month, maybe more." Gibbs said looking at the dates of the five pictures.

"The address Abs?" he continued.

"Here!" She stuck a post-it on his jacket.

"Good job." He put a Caf Pow on her desk. Gibbs, Tony and Ziva exited the lab, McGee followed a moment later.

"I did help Abby, Boss."

"Want the Nobel Prize, McGee?" The following slap could be heard from the lab. Abby smiled drinking her Caf Pow.

…

"Gibbs."

"Leon."

"Your investigation?"

"Going on. Probably a prostitution ring with minors involved."

"Illegally here minors." Gibbs added.

"You sure?"

"I can't be sure until I find those girls, Leon."

"But you think you're right."

Gibbs stood quiet.

Vance sighed "You know someone else should have the jurisdiction. The FBI. Or the ICE."

"It's our investigation, Leon. You can call the ICE once we have saved the girls and caught the murderer."

"What are you gonna do?"

"Stake-out. They deliver the girls once a month. We will be there."

"Keep me updated, Gibbs."

**...**

"Stake-out! In a stupid, freezing warehouse in the middle of December. It couldn't be worse"

"No it could not. I am stuck with you. And it is not the middle of December. Today is the first."

"Yes! And we have to stay here for a whole freakin' month! Why can't stake-outs ever be in a warm, comfortable five-stars hotel room? And a hot bath-tube! Oh and room-service, and-"

"Stop it."

"Can't you let me dreaming, Ms Spoil-All-The-Fun?"

"Dream in silence!"

"What are you going to do for Christmas now that your little ski trip is cancelled?"

"Now even my Christmas plans are a threat to the national security, Tony?"

"Come on, Ziva, I wasn't speaking seriously."

"Yes you were."

"Was not."

"Why must it be always like this between us?"

"Like what?"

Ziva glared at him "If you don't get it by yourself, there's no point in spelling it off."

"Out."

"I am not going anywhere."

"No, the saying is _spell it out._"

"Whatever."

Tony sighed "Seriously Ziva, I'm sorry for what I said."

"So why did you say it?"

He shrugged "I was being my usual ass, I guess."

"Yes. At least we agree on something." It was Ziva's turn to sigh "Anyway, apology accepted. And Tony…I know my men track record is not the best, but I have dated good men too. And Patrick is one of them."

"Okay." _At least Miami's not the worst place in the world if I have to save you again._

Tony cleared his throat then asked with a smile "So, now that we're friends again, what are you going to do for Christmas?"

"Patrick will probably come here."

"Ah." He was hoping they could be all together like the year before. Tony didn't want to admit it, but that had been his best Christmas since he was a child.

"Did you tell him there're good chances you'll be working? "

"Yes, and it is not a problem. He knows how this work can be. And it is better than being alone anyway."

"Why-"

She cut him off "Tony, give me the camera. There is a car."

While she took pictures of a grey anonymous Ford Escort, he wondered how it was possible that every time he was trying to get her talk and open up they were interrupted. _Ninja mind powers?_

…

"Gibbs" he said answering the phone.

He listened for a few seconds and "Okay"

"Boss?" McGee asked.

"Ziva. They have emailed Abby some pictures of a car. Let's go McGee."

"Hey Abs."

"Gibbs, Timmy. I'm working on these pictures. So far, the car is a 1997 Ford Escort. I'm running the plates."

"Can't we see the driver?"

"No. I tried Gibbs, but this is the best I can do." Gibbs could only see a person, who was more probably a man, but could be a not so feminine woman too, with a dark cap.

The computer beeped.

"Okay, our winner is…Richard Bloom, 64 years old resident in DC."

"McGee I want him in interrogation in a hour."

He looked at the address of their guy. He lived exactly on the other side of DC. How was he supposed to get him in a hour?

…

McGee was observing Mr. Bloom behind the glass. He was a fat man who seemed terrorized of staying there. He was sweating, copiously. McGee grimaced in disgust.

Gibb entered the room.

"Oh you must be Mr. Gibbs. Sir, I am completely innocent. I swear I didn't do anything. I love justice. My nephew is a policeman, you know? Oh I was so proud when he told me he wanted to be a cop! I have a picture of him! Look, we were at this big party and it was so-"

"Mr. Bloom, who is this man?" Gibbs cut him off showing him the pictures.

"I-I..I don't know. Should I recognize him?"

"It's your car."

"My-my car is safely in my garage Sir."

"This car is registered to you."

"Oh well…y-yes I had this car, b-but it was stolen."

"Stolen."

"Yes Sir, about s-seven-eight months ago."

"You didn't report it."

"Oh. Ehm I-I forgot."

"You forgot. How many cars do you own?"

"One Sir. And one my wife."

"So they stole your only car and you forgot to report it."

Suddenly Gibbs slammed his fist on the desk "WHERE'S YOUR CAR?"

Their suspect began crying. And he sweated even more. McGee was truly disgusted.

"It-it was stolen Sir. I swear!"

"Why didn't you report the theft?"

"I was with this-this girl in a motel. I w-was only helping her, r-really Sir. She is s-so sweet Sir. A-and caring. S-she just needed a l-little help. B-but my wife couldn't know, w-we were just having a-a little fun, but m-my wife would never u-understand, a-and I was…afraid the cops would have t-tell her where I-I was and…I didn't kill anybody, I swear!"

"Write the name and the phone number of this girl down." Gibbs said, more disgusted by Mr. Bloom's behavior than anything. Exiting the interrogation room he sighed: they had only suppositions, few facts, even few proves. They could only assume. And Gibbs was well aware what assuming made out of him.

…

"Hey boss. McGoo" Tony greeted.

"DiNozzo. Anything?"

"Nothing boss. Only a lot of boredom."

"Go back to the office you two. Do something useful, then go home. See you here later."

"Yes Gibbs. The car we saw has not come out yet. It is still there." Ziva said.

"Okay. Now go."

"Good night Gibbs, McGee."

"Good night Ziva." Tim answered moving to sit on the chair near the computer.

PROOOOOOOOOOOOOOT

McGee stood up, his face couldn't be redder. He looked at the little pillow on the chair.

"TONY!" He yelled, but Tony and Ziva were gone. Even Gibbs was smirking.

They were exiting the building still laughing.

"You're a child." Ziva said in an affectionate tone.

"Yes Sweetcheeks. And you can't help to love me." he answered with an equal playful tone.

Ziva only smiled at him. _True._


	6. Chapter 6

**I know, I updated ages ago, but courses at uni have gone C-R-A-Z-Y. I forgot last time, but for those of you who are still wondering (because I'm sure you **_**all**_** are, and you are dying to know it, right?), the movie of ch4 was **_**Charade.**_

Twenty freaking days since the stake-out began. And no results. The team was quite demoralized, they were starting to lose attention and God knew that was bad in their line of work.

Vance was asking for something, either finding the murderer or declaring it a cold-case and moving on. Crimes didn't stop because they were already focused on a case, after all. But Gibbs couldn't bring himself to abandon it cause he was sure they were right. Even without any solid prove. He just couldn't help to think about those girls and Lt O'Connell: she had been killed trying to save them and deserved at least that they accomplished what she couldn't.

And there were his guys. He loved them, but man, they were really driving him nuts, children in kindergarten were much more mature, he was sure. Like he was sure his right arm was by then twice the size of the left one: head-slapping was one hell of a working-out. DiNozzo was grumpy because Ziva's Miami friend was arriving. David was grouchy because DiNozzo was grumpy and childish. McGee was surly because they were grumpy, grouchy and childish. And obviously because he couldn't be with Abby all day long. Gibbs was left delivering head-slaps like he had never done before.

He and McGee were watching the damn warehouse, again. Well, he was watching, McGee was doing something on the computer, and it probably wasn't work-related. But Gibbs decided to let him be, for the moment.

…

"Good morning. I'm looking for Agent David."

Tony raised his eyes from the file he was studying to meet the ones of a man standing right in front of him. The stranger was quite a handsome man, tall, well built, with long dark blond hair, a little gray in his locks now and then, amber eyes and a great smile. A half-moon shaped scar crossed his left cheek, from his cheekbone to the corner of his mouth. He was casually dressed, his hands lazily rested in his cargo pants pockets. He kinda reminded Tony of Indiana Jones.

"She's not here, obviously. You want me to call her Mr-"

"Milt. Patrick Milt. And no, it's not necessary, I'll wait for her. This is her desk, right?" He answered, sitting on her chair.

Tony was stunned. He didn't know why, but he had always imagined Mr. Miami as a young, sharp, quite boring man. The guy he was looking at was around forty and he was…well, he looked like a cleaner version of Chad Dunham. _So much for the whole don't-need-another-cowboy-in-my-life speech._

Suddenly Patrick opened the desk drawer and began to snoop around.

"Uhm, I wouldn't do it. She gets mad and it's not pretty when Ziva's mad, trust me."

He chuckled, "Oh, I trust you." But he continued to snoop around nonetheless.

The moment after, he found himself with a knife pressed against his jugular while a sweet voice said in his hear "You should listen to him too."

He didn't even flinch. "You always had a weakness for showing off, Ziva." He teased

She only grinned, put her knife away and turned to Tony. "I see you've met. Patrick, this is Special Agent DiNozzo, my partner." And Tony felt a pang of pride hearing _my partner_.

"You offer great advise, Agent DiNozzo." Patrick said smirking; he then turned to Ziva "I better go, you have to work, see you tonight Paz." And he caught the keys Ziva tossed to him with one hand.

"I'll be late Patrick. Stake-out."

He made a face hearing _stake-out _"Don't envy you. Good work."

"Agent DiNozzo." He nodded his goodbye and he went to the elevator.

"And don't go through my drawers. I will know!"

"Hey, I'm a spy Paz. Gimme a little credit." He answered with mock hurt and entered the elevator.

Ziva looked at Tony, waiting for the hail of questions she was sure was coming.

"A spy?" he unsurprisingly asked.

"Yes. CIA."

Tony made a face "Gosh Ziva, the CIA. Bad taste. What, is Milky guy best buddy with our beloved Kort?"

"His name is Patrick Milt. Not Milky guy Tony. And I believe he and Kort only met a few times."

"For that matter, _your_ name is Ziva David. Not Paz. What does that even mean, anyway? "

"It's Hebrew for gold."

"Ooh-oh, so our little Ninja is a sucker for pet names!" he said laughing, although Ziva couldn't say if it was a real laugh.

"Can I call you Sugar? Or Kitty? Missy Pussy Kitty?"

"I'll shoot you. Anyway, Tony, Paz is not a pet name. It was my name in Mossad operations. It is like Archangel, or Tango Eight."

"How come Milky guy knows that?" he said while his eyebrows furrowed, "You didn't know him back then, did you?"

"Not exactly. But it is not my place to tell this story. You'll have to ask him."

"Uh sure. Because I'm planning to become best buddies with Milky Man." She didn't correct the _Milky Man, _or the previous _ Milky Guy, _ it was like with children. They stop if you don't react. Or so they say. Anyway she couldn't shoot him on the spot, right?

"You'll probably get to know him quite well, once we have finally wrapped this case up. Abby seemed interested in him when I showed her a picture."

It took him a moment to realize what she was saying, "Wait, so he's not your boyfriend."

Ziva shot him an exasperated look "Just like I always said."

"And you never slept with him."

"THAT I have never said."

"So did you?"

She stood up and walked to his desk, sitting on its edge. "Let us get this straight, Tony, because I don't get it: you are not jealous, nor you are concerned for the National Security"- and she shot him an evil glare, letting him know the subject was not forgotten yet-"so, why are you constantly prying in my private life?"

Tony was saved by the phone. He listened for a minute then said "Yes Boss." Turning to Ziva he explained "They have a new picture of our guy, Gibbs want us to go down and see what Abs can get from it. And he said to do some actual work. I swear I'll never get how he does it."

…

Music in Labby had reached an unbearable volume, they had to call her several times, yelling, before she turned around.

"Hey guys, sorry it was a little loud, but I gotta concentrate." Tony and Ziva exchanged a look that clearly said _how can she concentrate with this noise_, then he said "What have ya got for us Abs?"

"Channeling Gibbs, are we? You just have to work a little on your appearance. Lips in a serious line"-Tony accomplished-"yes, like this, but your eyes need a playful glint and-"

"Abs."

"Now, that was perfect!"

"Abby-" Ziva said.

"Okay, back to work. This time the picture is clearer, so I can tell you our mystery guy is, in fact, a guy."

"Can't run facial recognition?"

"No. I need more resolution, but if I increase it the picture will become all fuzzy."

"So we know half the world population could be our murderer." Ziva said bitterly.

"Statistically male newborns are more than female ones. So a little more than half. Oh well, but you obviously have to consider that women live longer than men and we don't know the age of our killer, that's why we can't do a precise- but this is not important. Sooo got anything to tell me Ziva?" Abby said smiling.

"Yes Abby. Patrick is arrived."

"When do I get to know him? If- I mean, if it's not a problem, I don't want to steal-"

"Okay, seen this thousands of times. Girl talk moment in the chick flick, I better go." Tony cut her off.

"Don't be stupid Tony. I don't do _girl talk_." Ziva said with pure disgust in her voice.

"Anyway, don't worry Abby, I told you, I don't have any romantic interest in Patrick. Now we better get back to work."

"Okay, but you pinky promises I'll meet him."

"Sure, once this case is over."

…

"Tony, what is a pink promise?"

He chuckled "Pinky promise, Zeevah."

"What does a finger have to do with a promise?"

"It's a saying. It's a promise that you can't break."

"Oh. And a thumb promise is even more important, right?"

He laughed "No, but it doesn't matter. So, are you really gonna play Couple Maker?"

She sighed "I do not know why Abby is so interested in him." She shook her head "I probably should not have mentioned his tattoo."

Tony stared at Ziva, prompting her to go on.

"Abby wanted a new tattoo and she was asking me for advice, showing me some images and one of them was the Santa Muerte."

He looked at her blankly.

"It is a Mexican religious figure, worshipped like a Saint, even if it is not a real one. It is usually portrayed as the Death with a sickle in its hand. That's almost all I know about it, but Patrick has this tattoo on his chest and I told Abby. Since then, she has been really interested in him."

Tony chuckled "You know McGee will probably hate you, right?"

Ziva smiled briefly "I believe Tim has a heart too kind to hate someone. But yes, he will be upset."

"Yeah."

She added softly "Abby loves him, really, but I believe she is not _in_ love with him. Or maybe she is, but she will not admit it and McGee…needs to move on."

"Still, it will hurt."

"I know."

They continued their work in a much soberer atmosphere, until Tony remembered something Ziva had said, "Zeevah? How do you know he has that tattoo on his chest?"

She smirked and went on with her file.

**What I've written about the Santa Muerte is more or less all I know of the subject. I sincerely apologize if I insulted anyone's beliefs. I obviously didn't do it on purpose. **

**Hope you liked it. Anyone so kind to leave me a thought? I really appreciate your opinions. **


	7. Chapter 7

**In this chapter I talk a little about Islamic Funerals: from what I could find women can attend the**_**salat-ul-janazah**_** (funeral prayers) and every part of the funeral ceremony, but not the burial, no matter their religion. ****I apologize if I insulted anyone's beliefs. If you find any errors and tell me, I'll gladly correct them. Another couple of things, much less important, I'm placing Hasmia's death six years before season 1, instead of four, and I know I need to explain Patrick behavior, I'll do it as soon as possible (tomorrow, if I can). **

Ziva David arrived home really late that night; she walked from her car to the building she lived in tiredly rubbing her neck, sighing. She was just grateful Gibbs had taken pity of them (and probably of himself, even if he'd never admit it) and got Vance to assign another team to the stake-out for the following morning. They just needed a free morning and then they'd be back working until ungodly hours, good as new.

She quietly opened the door and crept into her apartment. Ziva knew she had awakened Patrick, no matter how little noise she had made- after all, what kind of operative would remain asleep? And in fact, her friend appeared from the guest room, seeming completely awake with a gun in his left hand, but not trained on her.

"Is this the hour to come home? Where were you?" He said with a smirk, playing the big brother.

And she was suddenly struck by a memory of a different time, a much different place, a completely different person. But the role was the same.

_Ziva was walking home after a Saturday night with her friends, well, started with her friends and ended alone with a guy. It was really late, half past four in the morning, she had only a hour before her mother woke up. But, the truth be told, she wouldn't mind come back and find her up. The night before they had fought because Ziva's clothes were apparently not okay. She had yelled she was sixteen and wear what she damn wanted and went out slamming the door. Her night had been a failure: they had done nothing more than sitting at a table gossiping. Who was with whom, who was cheating on whom, which couple had split up and why, this kind of things. A whole lotta boredom._

_After a while a guy of another class had come and asked her out. She was still short-tempered from the fight with her mother (and all the boring, insufferable chatting had done nothing to improve her mood), and this guy was one of the most popular in the school, who was always bragging about his conquests._

_It had been a big, bad disappointment. Not only had she not managed to release her anger, but she was even more pissed._

_So Ziva was walking home in a sour mood plotting her revenge against the guy and at the same time thinking another fight with her mother sounded good, when she became suddenly aware of someone walking beside her. Ari._

"_You did have to sleep with that scum, right?"_

_Ziva shrugged, she was really not in the mood "Very little sleep involved."_

"_Seriously, Ziva what are you doing? Sleeping with scum, dressing like a whore."_

"_You're NOT my mother! I don't listen to her and certainly not to you. Go away Ari." She yelled. _

_Then lowering her voice she hissed "Have you nothing better to do? Shouldn't you be around assassinating some warlords or terrorists?" _

_While she always told people her brother was a doctor, she was well aware of his real job, and totally unfazed by it (much to the displeasure of her mother and Tali.) _

_Ari turned to her gripping her forearm with deadly serious eyes. Ziva immediately knew she had gone too far._

"_The ONLY place I should be is here, putting some sense in you! Look at you, what do you think could happen if you ran into the wrong people?_

"_I'm NOT a toddler! I can fight you know?"_

"_NOT WELL ENOUGH!"_

_There was a staring match, that Ziva lost. She lowered her eyes, suddenly feeling her anger going away._

_And with that, their fight ended. They both knew there weren't be tears, hugs or great speeches, but it was okay: Ziva had listened to Ari and would remember his words the following Saturday, that was all that mattered. They started walking again._

"_Ari…any news on your mom?" Ziva asked after a while, with a soft voice._

_His jaw tightened._

"_Nothing. But you know what I think." Hasmia Haswari was going to work when a bomb hit the road she was driving on two weeks before. Lots of wounded, some dead. Her body was never found. Ari was working hard to find who was responsible of that bomb. No terrorist had claimed responsibility for the attack. That led Ari to believe it was from Israel, but he had no proof. Only Ziva knew about his search. Not Rivka, not Tali, obviously not Eli. Years later, thinking about that night, Ziva often thought she should have read the signs, she could have helped her brother._

"_You know that if you like to say __salat-ul-janazah I'll be there, yes? If you want me to be, of course.__"_

_Ari turned to look at her "I'm not religious Ziva. And you know Eli won't be fine with that, right?"_

"_But Hasmia was, yes? You can't…bury her, we could at least have a Imam say__ salat-ul-janazah. And if it's important to you dad can live with that, I don't care.__"_

_He looked at her with a kind and sad expression "We can't. You know what I do. It's too dangerous Ziva. It's a public ceremony, what if anyone see you with me and recognize us? What if they link you and me to Eli? They could hurt you. But thank you. It means a lot to me." He said and kissed her on the side of her head. That was her big brother. Not the terrorist, not the monster, just her Ari._

Ziva pushed the memories away and playfully answered "I do not recall giving you control over my life."

He put the gun down and approached her and kissed the side of her head, much like Ari had done more than ten years before.

"I left you something, if you want to eat."

"At two in the morning? No thanks." She said making a face.

"Imagined. You work tomorrow?"

"Only in the afternoon. I was planning a little Christmas shopping in the morning, do you want to come with me?"

"Ziva David doing shopping? Wow, I'd come only to see it, but no thanks, I have to go to Fairfax, I need to discuss my last mission. Then I'm all yours. And of your friend too, if you are finally quit keeping me hidden and you introduce me to this Abby. I'm starting to think you're jealous ya know? Don't want to share my awesome personality, not to talk about my astonishing looks, with the world."

"And your enormous ego too, yes?" she responded with a laugh.

"Yeah, well, but it only adds more charm."

"Sure it does. Do you need a ride tomorrow?"

He sighed, his playful behavior gone "If it's not a problem…I mean, I'll catch a cab on my way back, but if you could-"

"I wouldn't have asked if it was a problem yes? And Patrick, no need to act like that around me."

"Yes, yes I know. It's just-sometimes it is still difficult to accept."

"I understand."

"I know you do, really. But it doesn't make it any easier."

"I know-she sighed- anyway, what time do we need to leave?"

"Must be there at nine."

"Perfect. I will come home around noon, okay?"

"If I didn't know better, I'd say you are exploiting me as your cook."

"Ouch. I am busted."

He only laughed, his good mood back.

"You remember right? No gifts."

"Yes. I am only going to buy something for Amanda. Will you come with me when I go give it to her, yes?"

"Sure."

"Very well then. I am going to bed now, good night Patrick."

"Night Paz. And…thank you. I mean it."


	8. Chapter 8

**I wanted to complete Patrick's story with this, but it'd become too long. I promise tomorrow (or the day after) I'll finish it and then we will be back to the case.**

**I shouldn't say it, but I love this chapter. This doesn't mean you are not welcome to burst my bubble if you think it sucks ****. **

Tony DiNozzo parked her car in front of Ziva's building and stood in there for a while, thinking. Four years before, it was common that they showed up at each other apartment without calling. But after everything that had happened with Rivkin, it would probably be wiser if he didn't come unannounced. To tell the truth, Ziva knew he'd come and give her a lift, she only expected him a hour later. So what? He had brought lunch and just wanted a chance to talk a little with Milty Mouse. As much as Tony trusted Ziva with his life, he wasn't so keen on trusting her (supposed) friends. Not that he'd ever admit it to her, of course, the last argument was still very clear in his mind. She had already been suspicious when he had offered to come pick her up. The Ninja knew he was up on something, but had agreed. Reluctantly.

Showing up a hour before meant sure death, he was hoping the food could bribe her into a much less severe punishment.

He was going to ring the entry phone when an old lady opened the door and went out. Tony hold the door open.

"Thank you young man." He nodded and entered. He knocked on Ziva's door.

"Agent DiNozzo, good morning."

Tony stared at Patrick and felt something sinking inside him.

"Uh, ehm good morning, I was looking for Ziva."

"She's still out. Wanna enter and wait for her? I am sure she won't mind."

"You are not drunk, are you?"

Patrick looked at him with a puzzled expression "Excuse-me?"

"Sorry, having a déjà-vu here. A bad one."

"Can't say I understand. Anyway, wanna come in?"

"Oh sure, thanks. I brought something for lunch."

"Great. Anything to drink? Beer, wine?"

"Water will do, thanks."

They sat down in Ziva's living-room in an awkward silence.

Tony briefly cleared his throat "You said Ziva's out?"

"Yes. Christmas shopping."

Patrick was sat slightly leaned forward, with his fore-arms on his thighs.

Tony found himself staring at Patrick's right hand. Or better, where it should've been his right hand.

Patrick followed his glance, "I assume you didn't know about this." he said, raising his right arm. The sleeve of his shirt slid down, showing his wrist, without the hand.

"Uh sorry. It's just…no, I didn't know."

He half-smiled "Well, I'm not surprised. So I guess you don't know the story behind it either."

"No, but I bet it has something to do with that _Paz._"

Patrick was quiet for a long moment, obviously deciding if he wanted to tell his story.

"I am sure you know all about what happened after September 11 and Operation Enduring Freedom."

"More or less what everybody knows."

He nodded "In the first part of the Operation we were able to bring the Taliban regime down in most of Afghanistan in few weeks, and most of the senior Taliban leadership fled to Pakistan.

After a while we started hearing they were reorganizing, rumors placed several arm dealers in Quetta. My mission is classified, anyway, long story short, I was near the Khojak Pass when I was captured. I woke up with someone kicking me and yelling at me in Dari."

Tony unconsciously quivered, he knew where this was going.

"I only understand as much Dari to know it was it. Then they interrogated me in Arabic, then in broken English." Patrick raised his eyes to meet Tony's.

"They were afraid, you know? They thought my presence there meant Americans were much closer than they knew. And they were not ready to fight back. Fear…it can make a man doing unbelievable things. They needed information, and fast. They were starving for it. They started punching me, slightly cutting my skin. Then they jumped on my hands with combat boots, shattering the bones. After that, they amputated my fingers, one at day." Tony was upset, to say the least. And he was even more perturbed by the even, calm tone he was talking in. He figured it was a coping mechanism, Ziva used the same tone talking about herself.

"I was literally half-way to death when they came."

"SEALs?"

"Mossad. Oh don't get me wrong, they were not rescuing me. They happened to be after the same cell I was hold by."

_Four people stood outside a small construction, crouched down with guns in their hands. Three of them were obviously men, tall and well-built, one was shorter and thinner, probably a woman. They were all dressed in black, faces covered by balaclavas. In the dark night they were almost impossible to see. They entered it, stopping for a moment to assess the place; there was only a room, with six people sleeping in. A couple were on mattresses on the floor, the others laid on the ground. They quietly killed all of them, just as they did kill the men outside._

_Proceeding further they discovered a trap door and quietly decided who was to go first. One person was left guarding their back, while the others opened it and went down. Complete darkness._

_They listened for moment, but they couldn't hear anything, no one snoring, whispering, breathing. The woman dared to switch a small torch on, simultaneously raising her gun, conscious of being an easy target. No reaction. Feeling a little more assured she let the light wandering around the small room. If that could be called a room._

_It was more a hole in the dirt, the ceiling kept up by some supports. There was only a man in there laying on the floor, his feet bound. The woman went and turned him on his back. He had obviously passed out. There were cuts and bruises all over his face, his hair were soaked in dried blood, as was the ground beneath him. One hand was swollen, obviously broken in more than a point, as were the fingers. The other was swollen as well, but lacked three fingers. The stumps were red with blood and black with dirt and probably infection. No wonder they hadn't bothered tying them up. _

"_We need to get this man out ASAP." She whispered in Arabic._

"_It's too dangerous Paz. I say we leave him here and alert the local cops tomorrow. They'll save him."_

"_Are you crazy? He could be dead tomorrow!" she hissed. In the meantime the man had woken up and was delirious; his eyes were half-closed and unfocused._

"_We can't take him to a hospital! And by the time we reach base he'll be dead."_

"_He's halfway to death. We can spare him some sufferance." The third one said raising his gun._

"_NO! We have a doctor waiting for us at the C-130 yes? If he can stabilize him, he can make it to a hospital back home ."_

"_No way! We don't know how many others are waiting for us out there. He'll slow us down. we can't afford it. I'm sorry, but there's nothing we can do."_

"_I'm NOT leaving him here! We can at least try!"_

"_SHUT UP! Both of you. I'm in charge here and I say we alert someone tomorrow."_

"_No."_

"_What?"_

"_You heard me. No. We must try. "_

_The other sigh "Very well, we try. But at the first sign of danger we drop him, am I clear?"_

_They nodded._

"_And Officer, I'll report this."_

_The woman nodded, she couldn't expect nothing less "Yes, Sir."_

"For what I recall, we made it without problems."

Tony was speechless "They-they wanted to leave you _there_? Or _kill_ you?"

Patrick shrugged "Don't be so surprised Agent DiNozzo. It was a dangerous situation, I was a burden. I can understand it, but…I'm grateful Ziva's so stubborn."

"Yeah. How-how can you be so sure that was Ziva?"

"I was weak, I was bleeding to death, I can't say I was aware of everything that was going on around me. But I remember her voice saying they couldn't leave me there. And Agent Dinozzo-"

"Tony."

He nodded "Very well Tony, I'm just Patrick then. I was saying, I never forget a voice. Never. Anyway, as you can see, I made it to a hospital in Tel Aviv, they had to amputate my hand, but now I'm fine. "

"Wow. I thought I'd never say that, but I'm almost grateful Ziva's-"

"Is so well after three month as a prisoner? Don't do that Tony." He said with a serious, and almost sad, look. "Just because her injuries are not so visible, that doesn't mean she's okay. She has been under physical AND psychological torture for three months. She's not lucky."

"I know."

After a moment of silence Tony cleared his throat "So what happened next?"

"One day, I was still at the hospital, a high ranking CIA officer came to visit me. They wanted to put me on desk duty, but I managed to convince him I could still do field work. You know the two ways to do this job right? One way they never notice you,"

"Second way, they only notice you, I know."

"Yes. And I'm perfect for the part. I usually work where drug cartels are involved. I enter bars, feigning to be only a loud, unlucky Cuban with one hand, always drunk. Everybody thinks I'm harmless and I can snoop around without problems."

"So you and Ziva have always been in contact?"

"No. I didn't even know her name was Ziva. She never came to visit me at the hospital, I only remembered the voice and the name _Paz _till some months ago, when I bumped into her in Miami."


	9. Chapter 9

**I know, I'm a liar. I did say this would have been up two days ago at last, but I guess I counted my chickens before they hatched; in my little, stupid head I was all happy and conceited because I just wrote a good chapter. And obviously this one came putting me back in my place. N-O-T-H-I-N-G turned out right: it seemed a bad chick-flick, all sappy and fluffy. Ugh. Now it is slightly better, I hope.**

**WARNING: rape mention, with some bad words and pretty graphical images (just a couple of lines, nothing too bad). If you don't want to read them stop just after Tony's "**_**Holy…I never thought**_**" and skip Patrick's lines, you won't miss anything. Just know he is upset about Somalia. After that you can go on reading without problems. **

**nk: got your hint. I don't know, it does go well with the impressive-clearance thing, but I just imagine Ray a little younger. I'll wait for your "I told you so" if you're right.**

_Patrick was sitting in the corner of a bar in North Miami Beach, loudly muttering to himself. People around him would look at him, shake their head with a half-amused, half-pitiful grin and go back to their business. He had been playing the fool for two weeks gathering intelligence on a supposed drug ring, spending his days wandering around in bars, letting people offer him beers and often make fun of him. The Fool was his best character, one that did deserve the Oscar, but playing it almost 24/7, man, was exhausting._

_The bar was pretty empty at that moment: some people in a corner playing poker, some sitting in small groups drinking alcohol, sure to be completely wasted by the end of the night, few others at the counter. A woman walked into the bar, stopping for a moment on the door, looking around. Her gaze longed a little in Patrick, but then she strode in confidently, sat at the counter and ordered something to drink. Everybody was looking at her. The stranger was smokin' hot, to say the least, and the dress she was wearing was not too revealing but flattering as Hell, to say, again, the least. All the men in the room were drooling. Patrick too, for a moment, then went back to business: aside from her gorgeous figure, this woman could be the courier, the link between the big bosses and the small pushers, the break in the case he was waiting for. She stood there for a while, smiling and laughing with the bartender. They seemed not to know each other, but it could be all a play and, damn, he couldn't hear anything of what they were saying. When she finally left, he decided to follow her; after two weeks of nothing it was his best shot. _

_Always muttering to himself, he stood up and went after her. As usual, nobody paid too much attention to him. She was walking quickly, without looking around, not paying attention to the men who whistled and yelled obscenities after her._

_She suddenly disappeared in a lane on the right. He stopped. Had she spotted him? Was she waiting for him to kill him?_

_The gun in his hand, he crept along the wall. Maintaining the cover, he ventured a look; she was lazily lined against the wall, arms crossed. She was obviously voluntarily not threatening, although he was sure she could take the gun she had to have somewhere and fire it in five seconds, maybe less._

"_So, why is the CIA following me?" she said, loudly enough for him to hear, but not for anyone following them._

_He was tempted to continue his charade, or saying something like "Se__ñ__ora, me no habla.", but he came almost in front of her without lowering the weapon "Who are you?"_

"_This is not the place to do the introductions, I am someone you do not need to worry about."_

_Footsteps could be heard coming from the near street. Acting instinctively, he pressed her against the wall, like he was about to kiss her. Once he was against her, it occurred to him that he didn't know who she was and he had just put himself in a highly dangerous position; she could snap his neck in two seconds. Playing the Fool had done something to his neurons, no doubt. Nonetheless Patrick had to admit he had a good feeling about her; she knew him, but was he damned if he could remember her. Judging from her looks, there was no way he could've ever forget her and her voice…yes, it was somewhat familiar, but he couldn't put his fingers on it._

"_Anyone following you?" she whispered against his mouth. _

"_No one." He kissed her thinking he'd never been in a stranger, hotter, possibly dangerous situation before._

"_You sure?"_

"_Yes."_

_Whoever it was, the stranger just walked away, minding his business._

"_It is not safe here, come on." She pushed him back, messed her hair up and grabbed his hand, deciding it was safer trying to be inconspicuous. And the best way to be inconspicuous was being totally conspicuous: she started talking loudly, in a slightly slurred Spanish, clearly feigning to be tipsy. He decided to go along, wherever they were going, cautiously. Good feeling or not, she could easily be with the bad guys._

"_Not that I didn't appreciate the kiss, or the whole drunk charade, but what are we doing here exactly?" He asked once they were in her room at a anonymous hotel._

"_What do you know about the Reynosa cartel?"_

_Oh, two could play that game "Answer me, first."_

"_You were following me here anyway, yes? It was quicker letting you know I was aware of you."_

"_Who are you?"_

"_It doesn't matter."_

"_Who do you work for?"_

"_You ask too many questions."_

"_How do you know me?"_

"_I do not know you."_

"_You know I'm CIA."_

"_You should be wiser. What if I were the bad guy and you just confirmed my suspicions?"_

_Damn she was right, that was really a rookie mistake. The Fool charade HAD to have done something to his brain. He sighed and tiredly rubbed his eyes._

"_Okay, we started off on the wrong foot. Patrick Milt, CIA" he said extending his hand towards her._

_She smirked and showed him her badge "Ziva David, NCIS."_

_Ziva David. No, it didn't ring any bell._

"_So, Ziva- can I call you Ziva right?- how do you know me?"_

"_We met, briefly."_

"_You are not American."_

"_Now I am. But I was born in Israel."_

_Israel. He only could think of his long hospital admission, but he was sure he'd never seen her there. So where? Man, it was frustrating, but it could wait._

"_Why is NCIS interested in the Reynosa family?"_

"_Let's say they have…a bit of a grudge against us." Patrick was surprise: for a big drug cartel like the Reynosa was, it needed a little more to go on a personal vendetta, like Ziva was implying, than killing a simple pusher or something like that._

"_What did you do? Did you kill one of their own?" He said slightly ironic._

"_Not me in person." She said with a dead serious, low voice._

"_Oh man. Okay I know Alejandro is in town, political reasons."_

"_And?"_

"_And rumor has it that they just closed a big deal, but they're not my targets, that's just what I heard."_

"_It's a start. Thank you."_

"_You're welcome. Now, why don't you tell me how you know me?"_

"_No."_

"_Com'on! Why?"_

"_Just because."_

"_Humph. Wanna go back to want we were doing in the alley?" he said in an allusive, yet playful voice._

"_No thanks."_

"_Aren't you picky? What do you want to do then?"_

"_You could go home, for example."_

"_Oh no. You dragged me here, you deal with the consequences."_

"_I didn't drag you! You were coming nonetheless. I just sped things up."_

"_Okay okay. Have a little pity, won't you? I have been spending my days talking to myself while people made fun of me. For the first time in weeks I can be myself with someone else. Let's do some interagency bonding." Ziva had to grin. _

"_Well, out of pity, you can come seat here." She said patting the bed beside her._

_He raised his eyebrows grinning "Whoa, I didn't mean THAT type of bonding!"_

_She smiled "I am only offering a comfortable seat while we talk. Unless you want to seat on the floor. Be my guest." _

" _Uhm, listen can I go take a shower first? I mean, I've been in bars all day and today a jerk spat on me-" Ziva made a face "Uh, too much information? Anyway can I-"_

"_Go."_

_While he was showering he thought again about her; where the Hell had he met her? Or better, where had she met him? The shampoo bottle slipped from his hand. As always he cursed his lacking hand and those bastards who had done that to him, and it suddenly all came back. _

"_**It's too dangerous Paz."**_

"_**I'm NOT leaving him here!"**_

_He stood several minutes unmoving; he owed Ziva his life. Finally he stepped out of the shower, grabbed a towel and went into the other room._

_Ziva raised her eyes from the file she was studying "Putting on some clothes was too difficult yes?"_

"_Yes Paz, it was."_

_Ziva was quiet for a while, then she softly said "I thought you were delirious."_

"_I was. I only remember that you were arguing for me. You saved my life. Ziva I-"_

"_Don't. This is why I did not want to tell you, I-I do not deal well with gratitude okay? I do not want to be thanked, it was the right thing to do and I did it. Nothing more to say." She paused "Now, I was thinking that while I was talking to the bartender, I mentioned I was bored and he hinted he could get me some fun. I think it is clear-"_

"_He is the pusher? Yes I suspected it. I don't know where he get the drug, that's my problem." He answered, but he saw it for what it was, a clear attempt to change subject._

"_Right. Nice tattoo by the way." She said looking at the Death on his chest._

"_Nice is not an adjective I'd use for the Muerte. I had to do it during an assignment in Mexico a while ago, but I quite like it."_

"When did she tell you about Somalia?"

"Some days later; we ended up kinda working together, she did me a favor and got her way with the bartender and I paid attention to everything concerning the Reynosa cartel. Anyway, one night she had put on a dress more revealing and I saw clearly a scar. I asked her and…"

"And you never- I mean, were you ever something more-" Tony couldn't help but ask.

"No. Oh, don't get me wrong, I'm not blind, but I…the truth is, Tony, that I need her in my life. I need her to remind me I'm alive, I need to call her at night to be sure she didn't leave me in that hole, I need her when my insecurities take the upper hand on me. And between Ziva and me...oh, it could be a great one-night stand, but nothing more, romantically speaking. It's strange you know? it has been almost ten years since 2002, ten years I managed to survive. Because I was not alive, I just put a mask on and tried to go on with my life. I felt like nothing was real: life, trust, love, they were just words. No meaning in them. Now I have a purpose other than my job, I feel no longer a burden, I can help her even if it is only playing housewife while she rests because of surgery, and-."

"WHAT?"

"Uhm the plastic surgery? For the scars."

"God, no one, I mean I didn't-when?"

"I take you didn't know about the surgery AND the scars. It's really not my place to tell you this Tony, but some of them were really bad. Both hypertropic and keloids. I just helped her out a little while she was sore and stiff." Tony vaguely remembered those scars' types from his knee surgery as some doctor mumbo-jumbo.

"Holy…I never thought-"

"What? That she didn't have scars? That she wasn't beaten and raped? She has been there for more than three months, I was there for a week and look what they did to me! Men fight better if they have a release you know that? Men follow you better if you grant them a fuck! The only reason she's still alive and reasonably well is because she's a woman. No wait, not even a woman! Just because she has three damn holes and boobs those MONSTERS could use in every fuckin' twisted fantasy they had! He couldn't have information, couldn't obtain a ransom, but could use her body how he liked. How his scum liked. Fucking her, RAPING her vaginally, orally, anally." Patrick was yelling.

Tony was about to throw up. Thanks God they hadn't eaten yet.

He said quietly "Patrick it's not me you have to yell to."

He stopped and sighed, a sad look in his eyes "I'm sorry. It's-it hurt so much you know? I don't have a sister, but if I had one I couldn't love her more than how I love Ziva."

Tony nodded his understanding and after a long moment of silence tried to lighten the mood, only half-joking "So, here is when you threaten to break my legs if I hurt her?"

"Have you serious intentions about her?"

He almost freaked out "Look, I'm not saying I will marry her. And I can't swear we'll have a _happily even after, _because, honestly, we both are so royally screwed up I can't predict anything. All I can promise is that I'll never be a son of a bitch to her."

Patrick looked at him thoughtfully and nodded. "And here is when you threaten to break MY legs if I hurt Abby?"

"Abby?" Tony asked wearily in full big-brother mode.

"I only know she wants to meet me. I've not even talked to her and I am royally screwed up too. All I can promise is I won't act as a bastard."

Tony weighted his words, then stood up grinning "We need a beer to seal the deal."

**I just tried to be realistically here. I know I could have been more respectful, but honestly, a prisoner woman, a Mossad officer nonetheless, in a terroristic camp with 30 men? I do think they just saw her as a hole, as blunt and bad as it sounds (as I do think it's the only reason she's still alive. I mean, after three months of torture and no breaking, they realistically should have killed her). Patrick speaks like that just because he's angry. Thanks to Alidiabin who let me see this little note could be helpful.**


End file.
